Honesty
by elzebrook
Summary: One never knows how much something means until it's almost gone. Can Elizabeth face her demons and the truth before she loses the only thing that really matters? Story 3 of The Scarlet Swan series. Post AWE JE, M for eventual sex.
1. Denial

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Captain Jack Sparrow or Elizabeth Swann (Disney does). I only play with them from time to time.

**A/N: **Yet another Scarlet Swan! I really have nothing to say, other than **SoftStuff** is awesome!!

EDIT: I have surpassed myself in dumb blonde moments and totally forgot to add one very important bit, because it wasn't in any of my drafts. head/desk

Anyway, it's back in now.

* * *

Honesty

Chapter One: Denial

Jack sashayed across The Empress' deck towards Elizabeth's cabin, nodding at various crew members. They'd become used to him, for the most part. The Pearl had been sailing at their side for enough time to get used to anyone. Jack fancied they even respected him a bit, if only for the standing he held with their Captain. Or used to hold. Now…well, he'd soon see.

He reached Elizabeth's quarters and flung the doors open.

"Good mornin', Lizzie m'dear," he said, cheerfulness wrapped around his voice like a hangman's noose.

She looked up at him from whichever chart she was pouring over now with unfocused eyes.

"Oh. Hello," she said, and went back to her chart.

"There's a welcome in the valleys," he muttered.

"Mmm," she said absently, reaching for a cigarette smoldering in a dish. She winced and rubbed her shoulder.

"How is it today?" he asked.

"It's been worse," she said, brusquely. Jack frowned, but didn't pursue the subject. She could be touchy about it—touchy for Elizabeth meaning chucking things across the room. Not that he really blamed her, admitting any weakness was a hazard in their line of work, but…one would think she'd at least be able to talk to him. But she didn't. Not even right after it happened. He could remember it with piercing clarity, that day. The fight had been over before it really began, the one ship no match for two, especially their two, especially the way they worked together. They had boarded in a matter of minutes, so easy it seemed. But some enterprising soul with more guts than brains and more cleverness than common sense had the bright idea to swing a boom around and Jack had turned round to see a bloody great pole bearing down on his head. He had had enough time to think "oh, bugger" before something cannoned into the back of him and he hit the deck. And then he had turned around to see what had hit him and he saw Elizabeth sprawled unmoving on the deck, her golden hair streaked with red that wasn't dye, blood pooling from her parted lips and a dirty great spike of splintered wood protruding from her shoulder.

It had been the most frightening moment of his life.

It turned out she'd been luckier than he thought, and certainly luckier than either of them deserved—most of the blood in her hair turned out to be other people's, the blood on her lips from a tooth knocked loose, and the spike, by some miracle of angles and angels, had only gone through skin and muscle. But if he lived forever and forgot all else, he would remember her unnatural stillness in that moment and the way it hit him like a cannonball in the gut.

That had been three months ago. The blood washed off, and the wound healed, and she now flashed her own golden grin when she smiled, but that smile was all too rare these days, and it wasn't the only thing. Ah well. Tonight…he had high hopes for tonight. He strode up to her desk and planted his hands on either side of her own.

"So tell me, darling, what treasure are you after this time?" he asked, trying to make sense of the upside down markings.

"This isn't a treasure map, Jack, it's a map of the Haitian coast."

"Ah, so it is. And why are we looking at a map of the Haitian coast?"

"Because Capitaine Chevalle is sailing his merry way toward us and I have to figure out where the bloody hell we'll meet."

She ran a frustrated hand through her hair and glowered at the chart.

"What's he doing that for?"

"Dinner. Well, it's a business meeting, really, but it's over dinner."

"Oh," said Jack. "I see."

Elizabeth glanced up at him.

"What is it, Jack?"

Jack shrugged.

"Nothing. It's just…well, he's a Frenchman."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I just don't like the idea of you being alone with a Frenchman."

"He's at least thirty years older than me, I'm better with a knife, and from what I've heard, his amorous Gallic proclivities don't tend towards the female kind. Anyway," she continued, looking back at the map, "I won't be alone. You'll be there."

"That might not be the best of ideas, love…" said Jack, carefully. She frowned.

"Hell's teeth, is there anyone you haven't offended?"

"No. Well, let me think…no. At least, not anyone I've met." He grinned at her as she rolled her eyes.

"Did you come in here for a reason?"

"Yes, actually, I did. I came because it seems an awfully long time since we had a moment alone together and since tonight looks to be the type of night of which poets sing, or singers write, or someone composes sickly arts in the name of love, I figured you might want to break our long string of lonely nights and spend one together, eh? Just me and you and a bottle of rum..." he murmured seductively. "What do you say, love?"

Elizabeth's gaze flickered up to him, and just for a moment he thought he saw something like longing in her eyes. And then her gaze dropped back to that infernal map and he almost thought he imagined it.

"Sounds lovely, Jack, but I really haven't the time at the moment…"

Jack stepped back.

"No, you wouldn't would you?"

Elizabeth looked up and focused on him for the first time since he came in.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just that you never have time for old Jack anymore."

Elizabeth sighed.

"It's not that I don't want to, it's—"

He put up his hands.

"No. It's fine. Enjoy your charts and your Frenchman."

He turned to leave.

"Jack…"

He turned back. Elizabeth looked at him, that old lost, frightened look visible in her eyes for a half second.

"You promised me you'd never try to take more than I can give. I'm trying…"

"No," he said, stubbornly. "You're not. You were, I'll grant you that, but you're not anymore."

"Jack, I promise I will, but I can't tonight—"

"It's not just tonight, Elizabeth! It's been like this since that damn fight! The last time we actually talked was in Jamaica! What the hell have I done to offend you? I don't even know where we're sailing anymore, I'm just following you around like a blind dog, and I'm bloody tired of it! How long will you keep shutting me out?"

"I'm not shutting you out! I'm just—I'm just—"

"Oh, be honest with yourself!"

"I am being honest!"

"No, you're not. You're doing just what you did with Will. You're too busy, you don't talk and every time I try, you lose your rag, because you just can't face your own demons! I swear, Elizabeth, sometimes I can't blame him for what he did!"

Elizabeth went very, very still, her hands suddenly gripping the table so hard her knuckles turned white. Jack realized what he had just said.

"Oh, God, what a horrible thing to say. I—"

"Get out," she said quietly, still looking at the table.

"Lizzie—"

She raised her eyes to his, hard and glittering like topaz, like a tiger's.

"Get. Out."

He left.


	2. Acceptance

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Captain Jack Sparrow or Elizabeth Swann (Disney does). I only play with them from time to time.

**ABOUT CHAPTER ONE:** I have surpassed myself in dumb blonde moments and totally forgot to add one very important bit, because it wasn't in any of my drafts. ::head/desk:: Anyway, it's back in now, so you have to go read it again, if you haven't already.

**A/N: SoftStuff** is still amazing.Quick linguistic note: Nimptopsical is in fact a word, it is a word found in Benjamin Franklin's "Drinker's Dictionary" published in 1736. Since "Rule Britannia" is played in CotBP, this allows us to date the movies after 1740, and Jack would probably know the word because he boasts of knowing Benjamin Franklin in one of the prequel books (although I dislike using the prequel books for much of anything, since a lot of what happens in them doesn't match what T&T say, but in this case they are useful). And no, I have nothing against gay people, I am one, I just like the word pansy and I think Chevalle is gay because I like to think everyone not explicitly straight is gay (it adds so much more interest to life) and his men during the Shipwreck Cove scene were _very_ pretty.

* * *

Honesty

Chapter Two: Acceptance

Jack paused as he staggered back to his cabin, a fresh bottle of rum in hand. Chevalle had arrived. Jack watched as someone rowed him to Elizabeth's ship, sinking into the shadows a bit as the Scarlet Swan herself emerged. She was in full regalia and seemed to catch fire as the sun hit her, the gold brocade of her crimson coat gleaming almost enough to outshine her hair. Her fingers flashed as she raised her hand in greeting, and Jack knew rings covered all save one, left ostentatiously bare.

Chevalle raised Elizabeth's hand to his lips.

"Bloody Frenchmen," Jack muttered. He should be there. He'd been there every time before, standing behind her at the meetings, sitting beside her at the dinners, playing the rock to her flame, silent, unreadable but just as deadly. His King's right hand, her consort. He laughed a little at that. He'd been and done many strange things in his time, but he never imagined he'd be the consort to a king.

He watched them dance through the careful formalities of nobility—and worse, of pirate nobility.

"And where is _mon vieil ami_ Jack Sparrow?" Chevalle's voice floated across the brief distance between the ships.

"He is…indisposed," Elizabeth answered, her cool smile giving nothing away, but her eyes flickered a warning. Jack snorted. Too right, he was indisposed. Completely nimptopsical, more like.

"Ah, too bad, _je suis désolé_…You will give him my regards, no?"

Elizabeth nodded.

"I shall. Please, make yourself comfortable. I will be with you momentarily."

Dai stepped forward.

"If you would care to follow me, sir?"

Chevalle's expression indicated that he certainly cared to follow Dai. Jack made a face. Amorous Gallic proclivities indeed.

Elizabeth bent her head to talk to Midori for a second, and then turned to look straight at Jack.

Damn the girl. She'd known he was there the whole time.

She regarded him for a moment, her face unreadable. He raised his bottle in an ironic salute and he thought he saw a gleam of gold as the ghost of a smile flitted across her face. She turned and left. He went back to his cabin.

------------

Elizabeth stifled a sigh. Ye gods, this was boring. All Chevalle seemed to want to do was try to flirt with an increasingly disturbed Dai and complain about the rising amount of arms on French merchant ships sailing to Haiti. As if she could do anything about it. As if she cared. What did French ships have to do with her?

"…as many as thirty-five or forty canons, _Majesté_, and I really cannot see why we—" Elizabeth heard Chevalle drone.

_Well if you insist on attacking every bloody ship you come across, of course the rest of them are going to increase their arms, you stupid pansy! _she screamed at him silently. She did not want to be here, in this stuffy, over-decorated, pretend throne room, where she had to be a stuffy, over-decorated, pretend King. She wanted to be in her crow's nest with a bottle of rum, staring at the stars. Or better yet, in her crow's nest with Jack and a bottle of rum, giggling drunkenly and making up their own constellations.

Jack.

The only person she'd ever met capable of withstanding the heat of all her passions, and the only man to love her for them.

It hurt to think of him. She missed him so. She hated admitting it, even in the privacy of her own head, but it was true. She'd been missing him for months, but it had seemed easier than facing the truth. And now the truth was facing her, whether she wanted it to or not. The problem with running was that the world was round, and sooner or later you just end up in the same damn place.

She stood up.

"I am deeply sorry about your problem, Capitaine Chevalle, but I fail to see what I can do about it. If you attack every ship you see, of course the rest of them will increase their arms and will therefore be harder to take. It seems advisable to refrain from attacking everything in sight for a time, and it is definitely advisable to stop trying to get into my bos'n's breeches, since he is married to, and has three children with, my first mate, who will probably kill you if she finds you've been flirting with her husband. Good night."

She turned on her heel and left. A few minutes later, Midori walked into her cabin and found her staring out the window.

"I wouldn't have killed him, you know," she said, coming to stand beside Elizabeth. "Maybe just removed a few pertinent parts…"

Elizabeth grinned at the dark sea, but sobered as she turned to her friend.

"I have a favor to ask of you. And then I'm going to need some help. A _lot_ of help."

--------------

Jack heard a tentative knock on his door. He rolled over.

"What?"

"Someone here to see you, Cap'n," said Gibbs. Jack sighed. Lovely. Just what he wanted.

He tried to get up and wondered briefly why it didn't work. He caught sight of a nice little still-life arrangement of empty bottles on the floor. Oh. That was why. He pulled himself into something approximating a sitting position.

"Send 'em in."

It was Dai.

"Come to admire me in all my drunken glory?" Jack asked, groping for a bottle that still had something in it. Dai allowed himself a small smile.

"I've seen worse. I've probably been worse."

Jack raised an eyebrow. Dai's smile widened.

"You've never had a wife in labor. One learns ways of coping."

Jack nodded.

"So was there something you wanted?"

"Yes. My Lady wishes to know if you would care to dine with her tomorrow night."

Jack blinked.

"What?"

"Her exact words were 'Tell the drunken sot to come to dinner and I'll talk to him then'."

"Why?"

"Because she wants to talk with you, I presume."

"Oh. Alright then. Tell her I will."

Dai nodded and left. Jack fell back on his bed.

He sat up again. So that was where the bottle went. He pulled out the cork. One learns ways of coping indeed.


	3. Preparation

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Captain Jack Sparrow or Elizabeth Swann (Disney does). I only play with them from time to time.

**A/N:** Whee, un-beta'd! This chapter doesn't deserve to beta'd! It's an excuse for them (well, mostly Jack) to be silly and I can't stop it (Oh, God, this is descending into fluff. Pull up, pull up!!). Oh, well, at least it's short silliness.

On a totally different note, does anybody speak Japanese? Because I sure as heck don't and I think "hinote" means fire, but that's only because an online translator thingie told me so, and we all know we can't trust those...Oh, and paint make-up, cosmetics, maquillage, etc. This may be silliness, but it shall be silliness with period-appropriate vocabulary, goddammit!

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Chapter Three: Preparation

Elizabeth Swan was putting on paint. Or rather, she was holding very, very still while Midori applied the khol, or she would get poked in the eye. A very small part of her was disgusted with herself. Here she was, the Scarlet Swan, the Pirate King, the most feared woman in the whole Caribbean outside of Calypso herself and when faced with relationship difficulties, what did she do?

She put on paint.

The rest of her, of course, would take any help she could get.

"I'm acting like a girl," she muttered.

"We all have to occasionally," said Midori. "There. Done."

She held up a mirror. Elizabeth stared at the red and gold dress, the softly waving hair, the discreet and tasteful (for a pirate) jewelry, the entire, fully deployed female arsenal. Her own eyes stared out of the pretty, painted mask of her face, lost, frightened.

"Midori?"

"_Hai_?"

"What the hell am I doing?"

"You're going to have dinner. And then you are going to talk. And you're going to be honest, because all of us know why you ended up with a spike through your shoulder except for him. You owe him the truth, _Hinote_, and you owe it to yourself, too. Now come on, or you'll be late."

-------------

Jack looked down at the cleanest shirt he owned. Not that that said much.

Actually, it didn't really say anything. The shirt wasn't saying anything either, but it was probably only a matter of days…

"Gibbs!"

"Yes Cap'n?"

"How would one, if one were initiated into the arts of domesticity and were so laundromaticallly inclined, cleanse, deterge or otherwise hygienize a garment?"

Gibbs thought for a moment.

"What, Cap'n?"

Jack rolled his eyes.

"I asked you, man, how d'you wash a shirt?" he said, shaking the garment in question.

"Ah," said Gibbs. Jack waited for a moment.

"Well?"

Gibbs looked at him.

"How the hell should I know?"


	4. Truth

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Captain Jack Sparrow or Elizabeth Swann (Disney does). I only play with them from time to time.

**A/N: **My beta is a wonderful person. All I really have to say is it took them bloody long enough to have this conversation (communication is the key to a relationship that works, kids!) and I'm sorry, but I had to put Jack in silk somewhere and he wouldn't let me put him in silk without French merchant ships because he's a bit of a bastard. A really, really good looking bastard. In silk.

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Chapter Four: Truth

The food was magnificent, course after course of the delicately spiced Asian food Jack had come to appreciate, but Elizabeth only picked at it. She seemed to drink a lot of wine, though. Jack wondered what she was up to. They'd been making light conversation since he had arrived, and the only remotely sarcastic thing she had said to him all night was "Nice shirt."

Although, come to think of it, that might not have been sarcastic. It was a nice shirt, even if the silk felt strange, but thieves can't be picky and it was much better than the one he had thought he would have to wear. Thank God Gibbs had had the bright idea to go through the crates they'd plundered from that French merchant ship.

Phailin took away the last of their dishes. Elizabeth had her leave the wine.

Jack pushed his chair back from the table and surveyed his King. Her bright head was bent, her face pale against the rich red and gold of her gown.

"So what's this all about, love?" he asked.

For a moment, Elizabeth said nothing, only toyed with her glass.

"I'm being honest," she said, finally. Jack raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

Elizabeth lifted her eyes to his, her mouth twisted in a wry smile.

"I'm being honest. Tonight, you can ask me anything, and I will answer it. Honestly."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"Why?"

"Because you're right. I haven't exactly been the best…well, I don't give. So I'm…giving." She ran a hand through her hair, and looked down, frustrated.

"This isn't…easy for me, Jack. But I'll try. I am trying. I don't want to—to lose you. So…"

She took a breath and looked up at him.

"Ask."

Jack put his head to one side, studying her with unreadable black eyes. She waited, silent, expecting questions meant as accusations, as rebukes, and worse, as justified ones. But Jack opened his mouth and asked "How was your day, love?" and what could she do but laugh.

"Horrible," she said, eventually. "Absolutely horrible."

And so they talked and drank and talked some more, a gradual reclamation of what they had both lost sight of in the past months, of past heartbreak and future dreams and the oh-so-sweet and golden present moments.

"Why have you been so distant?" Jack asked, finally, after a few hours and twice as many glasses of wine.

"I…" She got up and walked to the window, the silk of her gown whispering like distant waves.

"I came so close to losing you…" she began again, but trailed off.

"_You_ came close to losing _me_?" Jack asked, incredulous.

"I did!" she said, turning her flashing eyes towards him. "If I hadn't seen that thing coming, if I hadn't reached you in time…the angle it was coming from, the way you were standing….it would've…it would've…"

She turned back to the window.

"I almost lost you," she said to the sea. "It made me realize how much you are to me. How much I care for you. And it scared me. So I…left."

Jack sat for a moment, stunned by this revelation.

"You care about me that much?" he asked at last.

"Of course I do. Do you think you'd be here if I didn't?"

Jack's memory flashed back to the day she caught him trying to steal from her ship, how her eyes had shone like polished stones, the whip she knew how to use so well.

No, he thought. He wouldn't be here. He'd be dead.

"As much as Will?" he heard himself say, and then he swore internally. _Bite your tongue, Jack Sparrow, before it gets cut out. _

Elizabeth froze. For a long moment, neither of them said anything.

"Er…" he said eventually. "You don't have to answer that one. Just forget I asked, eh?"

"No," she said slowly. "It's a valid question…" She looked at him, considering. "Differently, I think the answer is."

"Apples and oranges?" Jack inquired.

"And coconuts, more like," she said, grinning a bit.

"What did he say to you?" Jack asked, a memory surfacing from all those years ago. "Just before he…left, I mean."

Elizabeth blinked. "Oh. You saw that, did you? I didn't know anyone had."

Jack said nothing, nothing of how he'd watched her every move, knowing what was coming. Elizabeth took a breath.

"He told me that he knew, and that he loved me, but he couldn't live with it anymore and that he was sorry. And goodbye. I remember him saying good bye. And then he left and I killed seventeen more men and…well, you know the rest."

"What a bastard."

Elizabeth frowned.

"No…no he wasn't. Not really. He thought he was protecting me. He thought it was his fault. He blamed me the first time, and then he blamed himself for blaming me and…well." She shrugged. "He really was a good man, you know. Too good for me, I think."

"Do you still love him?" Jack asked.

"Not in the way you mean. I love…the memory of him. Will Turner, _my_ Will Turner, died that day. If I met him now, we'd just be…Captains. But I did love him, back then."

"Did you love me, back then?" Jack's voice was soft, wistful, as though he already knew the answer. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

"You?"

She turned back to the window.

"I wanted you. You're a very beautiful man, as I am sure you know. I used to dream about you, sometimes, when Will was being particularly priggish or simply gone. I even debated going to you once or twice. I liked you. You were—are—so different from anyone else I've ever met. You seemed to understand me better than I did. Peas in a pod," she said, shooting him a glance.

"I even trusted you, in an odd sort of way. I knew I could trust you with my life, even if no one else's. But love? Ho w could I? Will was my sun, my center, my compass, my _world._ So, no. I didn't love you. Not—"

She caught herself with an indrawn hiss of breath, but the words hung unspoken in the air between them.

_Not back then. _

Jack looked at her with a question on his lips and a terrible hope blooming again in his heart.

"Do you love me now?"

Elizabeth bit her lip.

"Honestly?" she said, softly. Jack said nothing, only watched her. She raised her eyes, honey-gold in the candlelight and met his.

"Yes."


	5. Aftermath

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Captain Jack Sparrow or Elizabeth Swann (Disney does). I only play with them from time to time.

**A/N: **Took me bloody long enough, dinnit? Sorry. There may or may not be an epilogue, but this is probably it for The Scarlet Swan. I'll never say never, but honestly, what more can I do with them? Besides write a bunch of sex. Which I might. But it's doubtful. This is unbeta'd, kind of fluffy and definitely not the best thing I've ever written. But it's here, and that's what counts.

My Jack will always be Spanish, no matter what 'verse I'm using. Because Spanish is sexy. And yes, I know it's damn near impossible to tear silk, but shush. It entertained me.

* * *

Chapter Five: Aftermath

For a second that lasted an eternity, Jack remained silent and still as stone. Elizabeth hesitated. Now that she had finally found enough pieces of her heart to give, would he take them? She wasn't entirely sure she deserved him—hell, she knew she didn't, but she had hoped…Slowly, Jack rose to his feet.

"Say it," he ordered. She looked at him, confused. He crossed to her.

"Say it," he said again.

"Jack, what…" she faltered. He cupped her face and gave her a dark-eyed look that sent shivers through her soul.

" Elizabeth. Tell me. Tell me that you—that you—" He stopped, not daring to speak the words aloud, the words for which he'd waited for so long, and prayed to an uncaring God she would understand. And she did.

"I love you," she whispered. "You, Jack. Not the Captain, not the legend, but you, the man. I have loved you, I do love you, I will love you, I tried not to love you, but when I was looking for the pieces of my broken heart, I never realized you carried one with you until I almost lost you. And now I offer up all the rest, in hopes that you will help me see how they fit together. Because I love you, God help me. I love you—so much—" Elizabeth's voice broke, but it didn't matter because Jack's arms were around her now, and he pulled her close, and for the first time in years she felt...free.

For a moment they just stood there, arms around each other, her head resting on his shoulder, enjoying the simple pleasure of human touch.

"I love you, too, you know," said Jack. Elizabeth looked up at him and smiled.

"I know."

"Oh, good," he said, and kissed her. It was a long, slow, dangerous kiss, the sort of kiss only someone who knows all one's secrets can give. Elizabeth's knees went weak and she felt the last pieces of ice she had encased herself in melting. She leaned into him and with his own peculiar grace he picked her up and headed toward her cabin.

"What are you doing?" she murmured against his lips. He pulled his head back a little to look at her.

"It's been a very long time since we had a moment to ourselves and being around you for any length of time does strange things to my mind and I have discovered in the past there is only one thing that will enable me to think straight again, so I" he paused for breath, "am taking you to bed."

"Oh good," she said. He kicked open the door to her cabin and set her on the floor, his deft fingers already working on her buttons. Elizabeth captured his mouth again as she clawed at his shirt. She heard something tear and Jack looked at her reproachfully.

"This shirt was probably very expensive, I'll have you know."

"I'll steal you another one. Shut up and kiss me."

He complied and she could feel him grinning against her lips. The torn shirt slipped forgotten to the floor and the rest of their clothes soon followed. She pressed full length against him, hands and mouth and skin seeking for more of him, more of the inexplicable heat between them. They stumbled toward the bed and he laid her down upon it, taking a moment just to look at her, his King, his lover, his Swan. She pulled him down on top of her and as he sunk into her, as she arched up to meet him, Jack wondered anew why he'd always seen beauty in the waves and never in the flame, because while water claims a stone, in a fire it melts and writhes and twists into new shapes and she was fire, fire, blazing up around him, fire in her eyes and in her golden hair and in the burning of her skin and he was melting now, in the heat of her.

"Say it again," he whispered to her and she did, and the words became a chant that twined in hushed and golden light around them as they moved together in the darkness—I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love…

-----------------

"So how does it feel to be an honest woman, love?" he asked, smiling at her, his head in her lap. He caught sight of her still ringless finger. "Well, almost, anyway."

She smiled back.

"A lot better than being a lying one."

"I don't suppose you'd consider making me a totally honest one," she said after a moment. Jack sat up.

"What?"

She looked uncomfortable.

"I don't know, since we've worked things out…If you don't want to it doesn't really matter. I just thought it might be something interesting to tell people…I mean, can you imagine the look on Gibbs' face? Plus, you know, I've always kind of…wanted to…eventually. Someday. To someone. And now I don't think I'd ever want to be with someone unless it was you. Or something. Er."

Jack appeared to think for a moment.

"Alright then," he said. He looked around. "Whose ship are we on again?"

"Er…mine, I think," said Elizabeth, slightly bewildered. Jack grinned at her.

"You'll have to do the honors then, love."

She stared at him.

"What, now?"

"No time like the present."

"Oh. Right." She cleared her throat. "Do you, Jack Sparrow—"

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow."

"Captain Jack Sparrow, take me, _Her Majesty_ Elizabeth Swann to be your lawfully wedded wife, to…erm…" She ran through the traditional words in her mind, and discovered she didn't really like them anymore. "not have, because you told me once you'd never try to, but to hold—definitely to hold—for richer or for…richer, knowing us, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, to love and cherish, to never, ever coddle or I will probably shoot you and to treat as an equal as long as you shall…erm…love me?"

"So forever and beyond, then?" Jack asked, his dark eyes shining. Mutely, Elizabeth nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak. "I do," he said, sliding the ring he gave her all those months ago off one hand and onto the other, and trailing tiny kisses after it.

"Do you, Her Majesty Elizabeth Swann, take me, Captain Jack Sparrow to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have—because you already do, and you have since you burnt all that damned rum—and to hold, devil take the money, in sobriety and drunkenness, in joy and in sorrow, to love and to love and to love—"

"Forever and beyond, I do," finished Elizabeth. She stared at him for a moment before she said, wonderingly, "I now pronounce us married. You may kiss the—" she started, but never got a chance to finish.

A while later, she looked around. "You know, for some reason, I never thought I'd be married wearing nothing but a bed sheet."

Jack looked at her from where he was laying wearing nothing at all. "You've never looked more beautiful."

She smiled down at him, then frowned.

"I didn't give you a ring."

"Ah, I've got enough rings. I don't need one anyway. I'm a marked man, Captain Swann."

She raised an eyebrow. He sat up and jerked a head towards his back. "Look."

She looked. There, on his left shoulder blade, near the bottom of his heart, the ever-moving ink that swirled and writhed around his gypsy skin had coalesced into a small tattoo. A stylized swan flew wingtip to wingtip with a sparrow towards a six-pointed star. Circling around it were the words "Y volaremos hacia las estrellas junto hasta los cielos se desmenuza y todos el mundo es ceniza." She read the words aloud, tracing them with a finger.

"And we shall fly among the stars together until the heavens crumble and all the world is ash," he whispered.

And then he turned to look at her with his coal-black eyes and she set them alight with a golden look and then with a kiss the fire consumed them both.


	6. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Captain Jack Sparrow or Elizabeth Swann (Disney does). I only play with them from time to time.

**A/N: **It's utter fluff. Don't say I didn't warn you. **SoftStuff** is awesome.

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Epilogue

The captain of the ship was having a bad day. First, the wind had stopped for the better part of twelve hours and as soon as it had started again, they'd been attacked by a pair of pirate ships. And worse, he'd known one of those ships, and its infuriating captain who was the cause of so many failures and annoyances in his life. And that was all he could take, and suddenly it seemed like a very good idea to hide in his closet until the blasted man came to search the captain's quarters and then run him through with a sword. And now, glory be, the plan was working.

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"You're going to die, Sparrow," said a voice. Jack straightened up and felt something poke his back. It felt strangely like a sword. He looked over his shoulder.

It was a sword. How explanatory.

"I don't suppose you'd want to tell me why?" he asked, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of his one. The man holding the sword didn't seem quite sane…

"Because this is an insult to England!" said he said, his voice rising. "My ships are not taken by pirates!"

Ah. Definitely not quite sane.

"Well, there's your problem," said Jack. "Don't think of it as being taken by pirates, think of it as the making of an amusing anecdote to tell your grandchildren one day."

"Be quiet!" ordered the man, hysterically. "I'm going to kill you!"

"That might not be the brightest idea you've ever had, Captain," said another voice from the doorway. Jack rolled his eyes. Her flair for the dramatic was going to get them killed someday.

The man turned to look at Elizabeth.

"Unless," she said, "you want society at large to know about certain escapades involving the very eligible bachelor Captain Gillette and a young Lieutenant by the name of Thomas , in which case, go ahead."

"How—how did you—" he stammered, momentarily thrown off balance.

"A little mermaid flopped up on deck and told me the whole story."

Gillette's eyes narrowed as he took in the scarlet streaked hair, the crimson cloth-of-gold frock coat, the high black boots and deceptively innocent smile.

"I know you," he said. "You're that Swann girl. Why should you be concerned with him?" he asked, gesturing at Jack with his sword. Elizabeth stepped over a dead body and into Jack's peripheral vision, her hands clasped behind her back in some mad imitation of a proper young lady.

"Because, you see, he's my husband and I find that, for some inexplicable reason, I'm rather fond of him. Also," she continued, unclasping her hands and pulling out a very ornate gold pistol, "seeing as I'm the only one in the room with a gun, I think we'll all be doing what I say."

Jack heard a very, very small click and grinned at the wall.

"So what'll it be, Gillette, shall you drop your nice shiny sword or will I have to shoot you?" There was a clatter as the sword met the floor and Jack deemed it safe to turn around.

"Took your bloody time, didn't you?" he asked, looking around for something to tie the annoying man up with. Elizabeth kicked some rope towards him.

"I got distracted. I think they have the contents of an entire Aztec temple in the hold." Her smile was as brilliant as any child's in a sweet shop with a week's worth of pocket money. He couldn't help but smile back at her.

"An entire temple? We'd best relieve them of it, wouldn't you say? The Aztec god they stole it from might want it back and it would be a shame if the British lost a very fine ship and crew to the whims of an angry god."

"I daresay you're right. We'd best take the wrath of the heathen deities upon ourselves in order to spare such an upstanding body of men." She sighed theatrically. "Such altruists we are…"

"Indeed," said Jack, finishing his knots and stepping away to admire the effect. The man looked like a trussed turkey. "Don't you agree?"

Gillette said nothing, only sputtered incoherently. If they thought he'd just stand here and submit to being mocked by a prancing nancy of a pirate and his cross-dressing harlot of a wife, they…he'd…

"Oh, dear, his gratitude seems to have robbed him of speech," said Elizabeth. She lowered her gun and looked around. "Find anything interesting?"

"Well, there's the obligatory captain's crystal and silver, some medical supplies, a few bottles of amontillado of all things and…" Jack paused as though listening to an internal drum roll, "books."

"Oh, thank God," Elizabeth said, threading her arm through Jack's. "I'll send someone in to come get them. If I have to spend another three months with only Cervantes to read I think I'll go mad."

"Ah, yes, but these aren't ordinary books, love," said Jack, as they started to walk across the room. "These are French books."

"Oh? And what is so special about French books?"

"Well, y'see, French books are sort of—"

Gillette watched in disbelief as they ambled away while Jack explained what exactly was special about books from France, complete with illustratory hand gestures.

"This is an insult to the King," he howled as they walked out the door, not entirely sure if he meant the fact that his ship had been taken, or that it had be taken by a woman and a drunken madman, or even that the damn pirates couldn't even tie people up efficiently. Jack and Elizabeth paused for a moment and looked at each other, then over their shoulders. Gillette found himself fixed by two pairs of eyes, glinting black and liquid gold.

Jack gave a despairing little shake of his head, a grin stealing across his face. Elizabeth slowly looked Gillette up and down, taking in the skewed wig, the disheveled clothes, the mess of knots and rope.

"My dear man," she said, raising an eyebrow at him. "I am the King."


End file.
